King o' the Road!
by Two-Bits
Summary: Another roadtrip. I know. I have a roadtrip fettish. ANYWAYS, this time, fall brake is fast approaching, and the guys are bored, with no ideas on what to do, when Itey comes up with the ultimate, most brilliant plan ever: roadtrip!
1. Bored

Dutchy  
"DUTCHY! Turn it OFF!" Jack roared, in reference to 'I Wish I Was Queer So I Can Get Chicks,' which was blasting out of the stereo. "WE'VE BEEN LISTENING TO THE SAME SONG FOR THREE HOURS!"  
I turned it down a few notches just as the door to our room flew open. In stepped Tory, better known as Two-Bts, her hand clamped tightly over her eyes.  
"Is everybody decent?" she asked.  
"Yeah, decent enough," Kid Blink replied. Two-Bits lowered her hand, warily.  
"Dutchy, baby, you HAVE to turn it off!" she pleaded, turning to me. "I know you like that song, Dutchster, and I like it, too, but the goils are starting to sing along as they study, and, frankly, it's scaring me," she said, seriously.  
I stuck out my lower lip in a pout and reluctantly switched tracks. I saw the slightest flicker of a smile--the smile that I love--cross her lips, before she turned to Jack.  
"What're we gonna do for fall break?" she asked, leaning against the wall.  
"We're still working on that, but for SOME reason the lyrics to The Queer Song keeps running through my head," Jack replied, glaring, pointedly, at me. I rolled my eyes and Two-Bits smirked.  
We sat in silence for a moment, broken only by the strains of Devil May Cry soming from the speakers, and from the TV, where Spot, stretched out on a couch in nothing but a tight tee shirt and his boxers, was watching his thrid hour of the Powerpuff Girls marathon.  
Normally, we wouldn't let a girl in our room if one of us was in our boxers, especially if that someone was Spot because, although he is so flaming gay that he is in danger of catching fire, he's the heartthrob of almost all the girls in our year. But, Spot is Two-Bits's cousin, and best friend.  
Ironically enough, Two-Bits despises the mall, and yet is her cousin's favorite shopping buddy. Spot has to literally drag Bits to the mall, but once they're there, the two would scope out hot guys and argue over who was hotter: Collin Farrel or Brad Pitt. The two were complete opposites. If one were to look for them in a mall, one would find Spot trying on super-tight pants and super-tight shirts, and one would find Two- Bits checking out video games, completely ignoring the fact that half the guys in the store were checking her out.  
Oh yeah. Bits is a hottie.  
She's short, only coming up to my chin, with short red hair that curled under a few inches below her chin. Her split ends were dyed black, and her hair color...really brought out her pale blue eyes, identical to her cousins.  
We stood in silence for about five minutes, before Itey broke it.  
"OOH! I got it! My folks once took a roadtrip, and they went all over the US and took in the sights, smells, and tsates of everywhere! We should do THAT!" We stared at him for a moment, then Two-Bits grinned, wryly.  
"Ya know, Itey, ya might have something there." 


	2. The Jets and The Sharks

Itey

Ha HAH! I AM a genius. Go Itey. Go Itey. Go Itey. Okay, I'll stop, now. We had two cars, Jack's nine-seater expedition, and Spot's SUV. School was out, and we were standing in the parking lot, waiting for Kid Blink, who, I swear, has, like, three suitcases! And he's straight! Anyways, Kid FINALLY got his sorry ass up here, and, after some berating from Two-Bits, we headed out.

So, we piled in the cars. Our group has like, two gangs in it. There's the sane, and the insane, but we call ourselves The Jets and The Sharks. Of course, _my_ group (Two-Bits, Racetrack, Spot, myself, Swifty, Dutchy, and Bumlets) were The Sharks, because we're the lunatic, non-English speakers. Race, Bits, and I speak Italian, Dutchy speaks Dutch (duh), Swifty speaks Japanese, Bumlets speaks Spanish, and Spot (surprise, surprise) speaks French.

Gaywad.

The rest, which would be Specs, Davvy, Jack, Kid Blink, Mush, Snitch, Skittery, and Crutchy, a.k.a. The Jets, are the sane people in our group. Must be that whole, English-speaking thing.

But, anyways, riding with The Sharks is great. We shout at each other in our signature language, and half the time we know what the other is saying, and the other half we don't.

It's hilarious to watch Spot and Two-Bits. They argue about _everything_. And Two-Bits loves to speak Italian, so she argues in Italian, and Race and I translate for everyone else, but what Spot says is beyond us. Damn Frenchie.

We began driving, and our first stop was Philadelphia.

Hee hee! The Sharks and The Jets compliments of West Side Story! If you like slash, go read East Side Story, by Saturday! It's great!

Shoutouts!

Erin Go Bragh

Buttons14

Koodles4you


	3. Repetitive, Much

Two-Bits

Sigh. It seemed like Philadelphia would never. Freaking. Come. Granted, we'd only been driving for about an hour and a half. But it seemed like even longer. Not that we weren't having a good time. We were busy arguing/insulting each other in our signature languages.

Which was really rather unfair, since NO ONE understood Swifty.

"La macchia, lei guida anche il digiuno. Lei va degli ottanta-cinque in una zona di sessanta-cinque," I scolded. Everyone looked at Race, expectantly.

"She says, 'Spot, you're driving too fast. You're going eighty-five in a sixty-five zone,'" he translated, for Spot and Swifty's sake.

"Au moins je peux conduire. Vous, d'autre part, conduisez comme un rhinocerous qui est eu ses jambes a coupé," he replied, coolly.1

Ouch. That was HARSH.

That's right, my pretties. I, Two-Bits, have been deceiving everyone. I. Know. French! However, I chose to keep this fact a secret so that I may have private conversations with Spot, without anyone being able to understand, AND I don't have to be bothered with translating.

Anyways, my cellphone rang, suddenly. "Ciao?" I answered, flipping it open. Spot, Swifty, Dutchy, and Bumlets looked at Race, again. He rolled his eyes.

"She says, 'Hello.'" They blushed with embarrassment, except for Bumlets, who is so damn tan, he CAN'T blush.

Lucky bastard.

"Hey, Bits." It was Jack. "Turn left onto eighth street, and turn right onto Walnut street. Then we'll be there."

"Turn left on eighth street, and right on Walnut," I instructed. Spot obliged.

"See you in a minute."

"Arrivederci," I replied, flipping my phone shut.

"Hellelujah," Swifty breathed when the Holiday Inn came into view.

"Alleluia," Race, Itey, and I agreed.

"Aleluya," Bumlets said.

"Alléluia," Spot added.2

"Wordt dit liever repetetive, nu het is niet?" Dutchy said.3 No one knew what he had said, but we got the gist of it.

Smartass.

Heh heh...I am such a FreeTranslation addict. Okay, now to translate!

1 At least I CAN drive. You, on the other hand, drive like a rhinocerous with its legs cut off.

2 They're all saying hallelujah, for those of you who didn't figure it out.

3 We're getting a little repetitive here, aren't we?

Thanks to Erin Go Bragh for reviewing!


	4. It's so CUTE!

Dutchy

When I woke up, Spot and Skittery were already bustling about. Two-Bits was still fast asleep, her finger twisted around one loose end of the black ribbon she wore around her neck all the time.

"Mornin', Dutchy," Spot greeted. "Me and Skitts were just about to head down to breakfast. Wanna join us?"

"Sure," I said, pulling on some clothes. I looked over at Two-Bits, guiltily. "Should we…wake her?" I asked, awkwardly.

"Not if you wanna live till breakfast," Spot said, seriously, shaking his head. I shrugged, and we headed down to breakfast.

When I got back, Jack was just coming out of my room. I opened the door, and Two-Bits sat on her bed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Oh my gosh! What did he do to you?" I demanded, rushing to her side. She stared at me.

"Nothin'…" I put my arms around her and hugged her.

"It's okay, Bits," I crooned, breathing in the smell of her hair.

"Dutchy, really, it's—"

"It's okay! You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I promise, I won't let Jack or anyone else hurt you ever again," I said, soothingly, rocking her.

"Dutchy! I'm NOT crying!" I stared at her.

"What?"

"Dutchstah, I've got contacts, and they make my eyes water when I put them in," she said, her lips curving upwards in a smile. I gaped at her.

"Jesus Cristus," I muttered, running my fingers through my hair. She leaned up and pressed her lips against mine, lightly.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"For what?" I asked, bewildered.

"For caring. And for speaking in Dutch. It's so cute!"


End file.
